


The Trouble You Took From His Eyes

by Wallwalker



Category: Final Fantasy X & Final Fantasy X-2
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 12:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4787072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallwalker/pseuds/Wallwalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The journey was all too familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trouble You Took From His Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lesca Fenix (lescafenix)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lescafenix/gifts).



This journey felt too familiar. 

It was setting Auron on edge, although he doubted the others had noticed. Only Tidus knew him as anything but some legendary figure, and Tidus was too angry to notice much, if the glares that he kept shooting his way were any indication. Not angry with him, perhaps, but angry at the world around him, as his father had been.

It was as difficult to blame Tidus for his anger as it had been easy to blame Jecht. 

He was grateful for the others, but it was Yuna who kept catching his attention. She was her father’s daughter, calm and reserved, but with the same sense of mischief that Auron had seen in him long ago. Sometimes, when the others were scouting the road ahead, and it was just him and Yuna at the camp with Tidus training behind them, he could close his eyes and imagine himself as he had been ten years ago - young and rash and quick to anger, his blood hot and pulsing through his body. 

He had been Unsent for so long that he’d almost forgotten what being alive felt like. It was good to sit with them and remember, if only for a moment. 

\---

“Did you know my mother, Sir Auron?” 

The question had caught him by surprise, at first. He had expected questions about her father, or about himself. But he’d hidden it well. “Yes. I met her.”

Yuna smiled nervously. “I remember a little about her, but... not very much.” She looked away, her eyes cast down towards the fire. “I would like to know more.”

“You were young,” he said, as gently as he could. “There’s no shame in forgetting.” 

“I know, but... can you tell me about her?”

He nodded, staring into the fire. He could see her face in his mind, could hear her laughing along with her husband. Braska had laughed more when she had stood beside him. “She was very clever,” he finally said, “and very kind. She wasn’t willing to give up anything she believed in - she would work on her machina in secret, even after she married your father. And she never stopped trying to reconcile with her family.” 

Yuna sighed. “I wish I could’ve known her better,” she said. 

He nodded, lost in thought. Braska had been happier with her; the two of them had touched constantly, light pats and brushes and hand-holding. And they way they’d smiled at each other, as if they both kept a happy secret, one that was theirs alone.

Her death had taken so much of the light out of Braska’s eyes, even though he smiled and laughed the same as ever. Seeing Braska’s eyes grow distant was painful in a way that he had not immediately understood, but... well. Auron had lost his father and brothers. He knew something about loss, as did everyone in Spira.

“Auron,” he’d finally said one night, “I have decided. I will go to Zanarkand.”

Auron had not expected to receive Braska’s confidence that night; he had refused his former mentor’s daughter only days ago, and few would speak to him, let alone offer him secrets. He was a guard, nothing more. “Now, Lord Braska?” he had asked, trying to keep his voice steady, thinking of the little girl who slept in the next room. Yuna had cried for days, no longer too young to understand grief and loss. 

“Sin has already taken my wife from me. I won’t allow him to take my daughter’s life as well.” Auron blinked at that, and Braska smiled slightly. It was as if he had read Auron’s thoughts. “Will you come with me, Auron?” 

Auron was stunned into silence for a moment. “I... I would, if you will have me,” he started. “But Yuna -“

“She’ll be cared for. I’ve made the best arrangements possible.” He still smiled, but his eyes were distant even as he spoke of her. 

And Auron understood, Yevon help him. There were parents who did not love their children, and then there were parents who abandoned their children out of love, because they were broken by grief. The second he saw those eyes, he knew that there was nothing he could say or do that would change Braska’s mind. “Then I will protect you until the end.”

“Thank you,” he said, smiling. “We’ll leave in three days, when everything is ready.”

The memories washed over and through him. It was more and more difficult for him not to be swept away with them. It was dangerous, dwelling on the past. 

Yuna was silent as well, lost in her own thoughts, or perhaps noticing that Auron had become lost in his. There was so much that he wanted to tell her, but he didn’t dare. 

\---

Auron had objected to Jecht’s presence, at first. How could he not? He had taken nothing seriously, and had seemed ignorant of even the simplest things. He had already threatened Braska's pilgrimage so many times with dangerous sidesteps, insisting that they stop, that it was _the right thing to do_ \- but what did he know of that? A madman, who had sworn that he was from a city ruined a thousand years ago, making moral decisions for a Summoner on his Pilgrimage? Preposterous! Auron himself would never have assumed so much.

The worst thing was the sharpness in his gaze. Auron had wanted him to be a drunken fool, charging into danger. But the man saw too much. He'd lost count of the times he'd turned back to make sure that Jecht was still following them, and realizing that the man was staring at him, a strange smile on his face.  Auron tried to overlook his strange habits; Braska had chosen both of them as Guardians, and Auron wanted to believe that his judgement was sound. It was the only reason he accepted the man's company, even though it rankled him, hearing him tell such stories that could not be true while Braska smiled. Still, he could not escape the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that Jecht would be the death of them all.

He had nearly been right, when Jecht had attacked the shoopuf at the river crossing; if the Crusader guards hadn't intervened and forced them away from the crossing, the creature would've trampled them, and if that hadn't finished them off the hypello trainers would've had their own men draw and quarter whoever was left. There were few places where the Moonflow was safe to cross, and the hypello controlled them all; none of them would've allowed them to pass. It had nearly been the end of their Pilgrimage, if Braska hadn't offered his services as a healer for the giant beasts in exchange for a second chance. They'd spent a fortnight there, Braska using his white magic to soothe the injuries caused by their constant work, and to heal the one that Jecht had nearly crippled.

Auron didn't speak to Jecht again for over a week; he'd spent the time helping where he could himself, following Braska's example. Jecht, for his part, spent his days alone, locked in the room that he'd insisted on having to himself. Sometimes Auron could hear him scream at strange hours of the night, when he was trying to sleep. Of course, he knew what was happening. Mostly he was surprised that Jecht was taking his promise seriously, and so quickly at that.

The two weeks had nearly passed when Auron returned from the day's work to find Jecht leaning over the railing, an empty skin in his hand. Auron had tensed, at first, ready to shout at Jecht for going back on his promise so quickly, but then Jecht looked up at him and smiled, holding up the skin and tipping the spout downwards. A stream of water trickled out, falling into the river.

Auron must've betrayed his surprise somehow, even though he'd tried to hide it; he had not been so good at hiding his emotions when he had lived. But Jecht had just laughed. "Yeah, I know," he'd said. "Didn't know if I could do it either. All that time in there, nothing but soup and those horrible tinctures. My stomach's never gonna forgive me for that mess."

Auron stood beside him. Jecht did look paler than before, and a bit thinner. "Are you all right? Will you be fit to travel soon?"

"Of course I will. Just do me a favor, will ya?"

"A favor?"

"Yeah. You even see me looking at a bar, or a store with booze in it... just grab me and push me the other way. You can do that, right?"

That made Auron laugh, in spite of himself. "I think I can manage it." 

"Great!" Jecht laughed too, although it was quieter than it had been before. Forced, Auron thought. "Figured it wouldn't be a problem for you."

They stood together for a while longer, watching the Pyreflies rise from the river. It was a lovely sight, although it still bothered Auron that they were there to see it. He had not heard of any rival Summoners on their own Pilgrimage, but none of them were favored by Yevon; there could well be some new acolyte undergoing their trials as they spoke. Braska's marriage had caused him as much disgrace in the eyes of the Maesters as Auron's refusal to marry. Strange, how much trouble it had caused them. 

"So," Jecht said, "for what it's worth, I'm sorry about all that stupid stuff I did while I was drunk. I really am."

"You don't need to apologize to me," Auron said, feeling his jaw tighten. "They were your choices."

"Yeah, well, I still shouldn't have done that stuff. Not like you weren't hurt because of it."

"I wasn't the one in danger. I was only concerned for Lord Braska."

"Yeah... I know. And I get it, I see the way you look at him. Reminds me of..."

He stopped, just as Auron looked back up at him. "Of what?" he asked, frowning.

"Forget it. I'm rambling." He shook his head. "I was thinkin' about my family, and I... hell, guess I'm just homesick. Wish I could see my wife again. And my kid."

A few weeks ago Auron might've snapped at him, demanded to know what he was about to say. But if he was trying to change - if his efforts were sincere - he deserved more consideration than that. For now, at least. "You _are_ rambling," he said, more gently. "You must be exhausted."

"Yeah, I am. I just don't wanna go back in that room." He shuddered. "I was gonna wait for you and Braska to come back. Is he still working on those shoopufs?"

Auron nodded. "Especially the wounded one. It can walk without trouble now, but Braska says the scar will never fade."

"Heh. Just my luck." Jecht shook his head. "I probably oughta go out there with him and talk to that guy. Say I'm sorry, at least."

"Yes. I think you should."

Auron might've said more, but the steady glow of an illuminated sphere caught his eye, and he turned to see Braska approach. The shadows under his eyes were dark and deep, even in the warm light, and he had one hand pressed against his forehead in a gesture he recognized from some of their more desperate battles, but he was still smiling. He was always smiling. "Hello, Auron," he said, smiling at him, then raising an eyebrow as he noticed the figure behind him. "And Sir Jecht! I am glad to see you on your feet again."

"Ha, yeah. Mostly, anyway." Auron glanced back at him, saw the familiar smirk on his face. "I was just asking Auron here if he'd give me a smack upside the head for looking twice at a bottle of booze. Wasn't I, Auron?" 

"Not quite." Auron chuckled. "But close enough, I suppose." 

"Ha, I'll leave that to you, then. You have a stronger arm than I do." 

For all of his good spirits, Braska was still swaying slightly, even while standing still. Auron offered his arm, and he took it gratefully. "We were also talking of retiring for the night," he said. "Although Jecht would rather not sleep in the same room as before."

"I don't think I _could_ sleep in there. Not after that." He stood up. "You guys don't mind me crashing on your floor, do you? I'll try not to scream _too_ much." 

"Of course you can. We already have a place ready for you."

"Ha! Really?" He shook his head, looking at Auron. "You could've told me!"

"I was getting there," Auron answered, shaking his head.

"Ha! Guess that's what I get for rambling." He looked back at them both before going in, and Auron saw him pause, working up the energy to speak. "But seriously, Braska? I'm sorry. For all that stupid stuff I did, and for drinking when I should've been protecting you... all of it."

Braska looked up at him, his eyes still tired, but not so shadowed as before, Auron thought. "I appreciate your apology, Sir Jecht," he said softly. "And I would very much like to speak of it more tomorrow, once we've rested. I doubt either of us are prepared for a lengthy conversation." 

"Right. Okay, that's good." Jecht held the door of the travel agency aside for the others. "And, uh, thanks." 

\---

Sometimes, when he looked at Yuna, he saw her father.

It wasn't fair of him to think that way. Braska might've given her his passion and determination, and she had the same single-minded drive to finish her voyage that he had, even in the face of every obstacle. But she was not the one he had sworn to care for and protect until the end, even if only to himself.

Auron had sacrificed his future in the warrior monks of Yevon, refusing to marry a woman he'd had no passion for. She had been a kind woman, and they could've had a life together, even if only as friends and partners. But he could only imagine rising through the ranks, higher and higher, while Braska remained an outcast for following his heart. When the time had come, he'd found that he had no stomach for those heights, not at that price. And he'd accepted the consequences - being ostracized by almost all of his former friends, watching his best friend receive the honors that should've been his - with no complaint. With demotion had come the freedom to do as he wished.

When he looked at Yuna, he saw a familiar spirit. It almost made him remember the passion and devotion that had driven across Spira. When he looked at her, he remembered his dream of changing everything, ending Sin's tyranny forever, and not the tragic reality of the land's deadly cycle.

But he said nothing, and did his best to remember who she was, and who she was not. She did not deserve such a burden.

\---

"Sir Auron?"

His eyes opened wide, and his hand was on his sword before he could check himself. Hours of standing vigil over their camp had taken their toll; Auron no longer needed to sleep, which made the nights exceptionally long. So far he had kept up his pretense of living, not wanting anyone to suspect what he truly was, but what was left of his nerves were still on edge. But even before he turned he knew that it was only Yuna behind him, a sphere of light resting on her palm.

"Yes, Lady Yuna?" he asked, relaxing as quickly as he could; he saw her flinch for a moment before she calmed herself as well. "Are you all right?"

She came to stand beside him, gripping her stave so tightly in her other hand that it nearly shook. "I'm fine," she said. "I was sleeping, but I... I must've heard something."

He looked away, nodding slightly. "The fiends in Besaid are not like the ones here. Sin has taken more lives here, and many of them are warriors who died fighting. That is all they remember."

"Yes," she said quietly. "I... never realized how much easier life was there, compared to so many other places."

It was true, he thought. Braska had seen that immediately; he'd seen a small community who still had elders to venerate, who were protected by the patrolling Crusaders and by the view from the cliffs above. They had more time to escape than many of the other villages he'd seen would've been given. It was no wonder that one of the Fayth had been granted to their temple, despite its small size.

"You should try to sleep, Lady Yuna," he finally said. "Easy or not, we have a long way yet to travel." 

"I know. I've tried." He saw her frown out of the corner of his eyes, and saw the creases in her forehead. Too many worries, he thought. Just like her father. "I thought I could help for a while. I could even take over for you, if you wanted." 

He laughed dryly. "Lulu has the next watch," he answered. "I don't want to find out what she'll say to me tomorrow morning, if I leave you to your own devices."

"I'm not sure either," she answered, smiling only briefly before she grew serious again. "I just... I'm the only one who never takes watch."

"You're also the only one of us who can stand against Sin." He did not like the words, not knowing what he knew - but even if he told her, it wouldn't dim her resolve. He had to be patient. "That's why we are Guardians."

"Hm." Yuna sat down near him on the rocks by the water, staring out over the sea.

He should tell her to leave, he thought. Tell her to go and try to sleep again, that it was safer in the camp than it would be with him. But if Yuna wanted to stay beside him, nothing he said would dissuade her. She took after her father in that, as well.

"You know," she said after a moment, "if there's ever time... I'd like to ask you to tell me about my father. I remember something of him, but... there's so much I don't know."

At last, he thought. The question he'd dreaded for so long, spoken aloud. What could he say about Braska? So many people in Spira had lost too much. Auron had been used to seeing them, sad refugees from ruined villages who had come to Beville to try to move on, only to find themselves eternally trapped in the memory of their own disasters. Sad, wretched souls, he'd thought - always lost, never sure how to find their way. And then Braska had become one of them, and Auron's pity had turned to confusion; how could he pity a man that he respected more than anyone else? 

It was proof, he realized much later, that even the best and kindest in this world would suffer until Sin could finally be purged from the world. At the time, it had felt so grossly unfair that he'd hardly cared when he'd been demoted. If Yevon would overlook Braska, then did he deserve to be followed? It was a thought that he never dared share with anyone, even his closest friends, but he could never put it from his mind.

Auron's swordplay had drawn compliments from all over Spira; one of the Maesters had even commented on his skill, years ago. They said he had been destined for greatness, and Auron had believed it, until he'd met an opponent he could not cut down. He had never known how to make Braska happy again - truly happy, not the quiet smile that he showed the world.

"I doubt I can tell you more than you've already heard from the Temples, Lady Yuna." 

"What? Why?" She blinked before turning to look up at him. "You must have known him well. You were his greatest Guardian!”

"Was I?"

"Of course! Everyone says so."

“Do they?” He turned away, hiding a smile. “I suppose it must be true, then.”

“Sir Auron!" The sharpness in her voice... that was her mother's. It made it easier to think clearly, to tell her the truth.

“I was your father’s greatest protector," he said quietly. "That much is true. But I can't claim the honor of being his greatest Guardian."

Yuna shook her head, and he saw her start to smile again. "Tidus would swear that you're wrong, I think," she said quietly.

 _More than you know,_ he thought. But the secret was not yet out. "I would not have believed it either," he answered instead, "upon our first meeting."

She nodded, lost in thought, still staring into the distance. They stayed together, side by side, just as he and Braska had often stood when Braska could not sleep. It made him think of the past again, but of happier times than before.

Perhaps that was worth risking Lulu's anger, he thought.

\---

The sound of Braska's laughter had sent chills up Auron's spine.

He would not forget the first time he'd heard it in years, as he'd walked back to the camp to wake Jecht for his watch. For a moment he'd thought he was hearing things, that it was only the taunting of a Fiend, or perhaps that he had fallen asleep and was only dreaming of returning to their camp. But he'd heard it again when he was closer, and that time there was no mistaking it. It was _real,_ not the forced laughs he'd heard for four years now. It was sweet and kind and alive.

Auron had quickened his pace, but that time he did not have a hand on his sword. He'd stopped short, staring at the scene in front of him, still not believing what he had heard, or what he was seeing. Braska was awake, and smiling happily. Jecht sat beside him, grinning, one hand resting companionably on Braska's shoulder, as if the two had been friends since childhood.

Jecht had noticed him first, looking up and waving enthusiastically. "Hey, Auron! It's that time already, huh?" 

"Yes," he'd said, his voice betraying him, if only for a moment. He cleared his throat, tried again. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not that long," he said. "Just tryin' to wake up before my watch." He got up and stretched, fingers clasped above his head. "I ain't used to this like you are, y'know." 

"I would have expected you to be an expert by now," Braska said. "You've been with us long enough."

"Doesn't seem like _that_ long," he shot back, and reached down to grab his sword. "Guess I'd better get out there, before anything nasty shows up. Hope you guys can get some sleep."

Auron didn't look at him as he walked off, no doubt with his usual swagger. He was too busy looking at Braska, who was smiling at _him_ now, his face as bright as it had been before his wife had died. There were so many things he wanted to say, and yet... he didn't know what he _could_ say. "Have you been awake long?" was the best he could manage, as he sat back down beside the fire. 

"No, although I admit I haven't slept well. I suppose our trip to Gagazet tomorrow has my nerves on edge."

"Mine too," he said. It was why he'd taken the first watch; he'd hoped that he'd be able to sleep once he'd been finished. "But... you must rest, Lord Braska."

"I will. You needn't worry." He smiled, reaching for his hand. "Although I know you always will."

"Of course." Auron shifted, swallowing hard as Braska took his hand.

"Forgive me," Braska said, "if I am too forward. But... my conversations with Jecht have been eye-opening."

"Conversations," he repeated. "Have there... been so many?" 

"Several. Enough to make me understand the things I've been blind to for so many years." He smiled again. "I know we have little time left, but... I do not want to die without thanking you." 

"Lord Braska, it was my duty to protect you," he answered. "It always has been."

"Yes, but a self-imposed duty, one you refused to release yourself of. That makes it something else entirely, does it not?" 

"It was...." Auron finally nodded. "All I ever wanted to do was be sure that you were well and safe." 

"I know," he answered. "And thank you."

As he felt Braska's lips against his cheek, Auron was willing to swear that he saw Jecht out of the corner of his eye, cheering. But he only had a second's glimpse, and after that he had no time to think of such things. 

It had felt impossible for so long; Braska had felt so empty after his wife's death. He'd spent the years of preparation in a daze, smiling and laughing out of sheer habit. And Auron had done what he could, as his servant and as his friend, but even then the best he could do was protect him, keep him alive. But he was not the one who’d lifted the weight from his soul. Jecht... he was not the one who had made the impossible into reality, perhaps because of the impossibility of his own existence. 

The irony would be the death of him, if he still lived. 

(Later, when he saw Yuna return with Tidus, both of them soaking wet and laughing and holding hands... he'd only been able to turn away, to hide the smile on his face. Tidus might hate to hear it, but he truly was his father's son.)

\---

It was finished. Jecht was at rest, and Sin along with him. The cycle was broken.

Yuna was dancing for the Fayth, to give them peace. Auron could almost feel Jecht's gratitude. Ten years was a long time to wait for the ones you cared about. No one would know that better than him.

She was beautiful when she danced, lithe and graceful. And... he hesitated for a moment, even as he felt the Pyreflies that made up his spirit begin to float away. He knew what would happen when she finished her dance. He had suspected that Zanarkand - Jecht's Zanarkand - was a dream, but now he knew for sure. He could already see Tidus beginning to waver, and he did not think it was only his vision that betrayed him. For a moment, he found himself asking, _Why not stay?_ To watch over her, see what this new world made of her. She did not deserve to be left behind, not now, after what she had been through.

But his time was over, and long past. And he could already feel himself drifting away to where Braska had waited for so long, and where Jecht had already gone to join him. All he wanted was to be there again, beside them both. 

Yuna would be all right, he thought. She was stronger now. Braska would be very proud of her, he thought, and his vision wavered again; he wasn't sure if it was another pyrefly floating away, or just tears in his eyes. Braska would be happy now, he thought. Reunited with his wife, and with his Guardians... Auron would see him smile again. That would make ten long years of sleepless nights worthwhile.

He finally relaxed, and felt himself beginning to dissolve into the sky. It was time to go.

**Author's Note:**

>  _And thanks for the trouble you took from his eyes_  
>  _I thought it was there for good_  
>  _So I never tried_  
>  \- Famous Blue Raincoat, Leonard Cohen. (Only slightly altered.)


End file.
